The Pubertic Diaries
By: Pastrami on Rye This is the male version of "The Pubertic Diaries". For the female version, go here. Chapter 1: My name is Ian Douglas. I am a 14-year-old African American male student who is joining high school. As 8th Grade came to an end, I had mixed feelings. From what I'd heard from my older brother Gilbert, High School seemed like a double-edged sword: It seemed really fun, due to the amount of freedom and relaxed policies. On the other hand, going to high school meant increased and harder responsibilities, and the introduction of things into your life, such as alcohol, sexuality, and smoking. Little did I know that High School is also when most things start happening to you. And no, I'm not talking about having to decide what industry you're going into, or deciding on a college. I'm talking body-wise; things supposively scarier than losing a tooth. I've asked Gilbert what these things are, but he says that he'll get in trouble with Mom and Dad if he tells me. Guess I'll just have to learn these things myself then. When some people say that six is a tough age to be at, I personally think it's fourteen. Sure, when you're six, your parents basically say, "You know what? You're not a cute little kid anymore!", and they expect you to actually learn your lesson after they lecture you. Depending on the parents, the punishments will get more severe. Maybe their spankings will cause more pain than before. Maybe they'll start taking away different privileges. Maybe punishments will last longer. Maybe they'll stop giving you multiple chances to improve your behavior. Yeah, sounds like a big change, but fourteen is a hell of a lot worse: Punishments and lectures do increase intensity-wise, but to a much higher level, and you have body changes, and real-world things affecting you on top of that. And worrying about getting in trouble with my parents is the reason I'm the favorite child to this day. It is the first day of 9th Grade. I confidently walk into the large and intimidating school building with my backpack slung over my shoulder. I start maneuvering the crowds of people I know, and people I dont; people my size, and people larger, or smaller. I eventually see my friends LeVar and Megan standing by the lockers, where I learn that we get to pick our lockers. LeVar has saved me a locker right next to his. I thank him, and start emptying my backpack into it. With everything I'll need until Lunchtime, I walk to math class with my friends at my sides. LeVar and Megan are the same race as me, and they've been my friends since Kindergarten. I feel incredibly lucky, as it's not common for one kid to keep the same friends for this long. With most kids, they'll keep their friends for maybe a few years, and then they branch out. Before you know it, you'll never see a certain kid with a certain other kid again. As we walk through the hallways, we are in conversation. "So, how was your summer?" Megan asks, lightly touching my upper arm to get my attention. I tingle a little. Though we've been friends since Kindergarten, only last year, do I develop an attraction to her. Not trying to look like a fool, I respond appropriately, keeping eye-contact to a minimum. It turns out that we all have most of our classes together. All sitting in the same horizontal row in math class, we begin our first lesson after turning in our summer math packets. But a while into the period, something is wrong. I discretely put my hand under my desk, and feel whatever's going on. The front of my pants feels unusually tight, and I can feel something hard sticking out and slightly upwards. Keeping my cool, I wait until we're taking notes and working on the assignment, before asking to use the restroom. I hurriedly enter the deserted restroom, holding my nose in case it smells. Thankfully, it doesn't. I slip into one on the stalls and pull my pants down, my eyes bugging out at what I see. Many years ago, I'd learned about a body-part called the penis, but all I knew was that it was a fleshy protrusion which served as a means to expel urine from inside, and it was considered a "private part", which other people weren't supposed to see. But never before had I learned that it could do this. As I look down at it now, I see that it is very stiff, and is now about as large as one of those regular-sized Snickers bars you see in the check-out lanes in the supermarket. At the moment, I realize I have to pee, but the damn thing is hard to aim towards the toilet bowl. As I empty my bladder, I wonder if this will continue to happen.